I'm trying to light a candle on the gas stove when Tunny lets himself inside. He looks around the kitchen before settling back against the doorframe and nodding a 'hello'. It's always awkward when it's just the two of us. Hell, of course it is, when you've always been a group of three, one on one conversation seems too intimate, too personal.
It doesn't help that we're usually looking to Johnny to figure out what we're doing or what we're going to talk about. Even when you're not going anywhere, when you're just sitting around and talking about day-to-day shit, it's easy to tell who's leading and who's just waiting for someone else to start.
I start to explain that my lighter is broken and I'm not doing this for shits and giggles when Johnny shows up wearing what he was in yesterday. You can tell who your real friends are when you realize they don't give a shit if you know they haven't showered or even bothered to change to come see you.
"Brad," he half growls and things are instantly back to the usual routine.
"This again?" Tunny asks, reaching out to shove Johnny's shoulder.
"Ah, you hearing things through the walls again?" I ask when I finally get the cigarette to light. Johnny does his usual good-natured routine with an eyeroll and a half smile before he starts looking pissed again.
This is how it goes when we're not stoned enough to be open. Serious things are usually too hard to talk about when you have no excuse to drop your guard. Really, who the fuck wants their best friends to think they're a pussy who can't deal with their step-dad or their girlfriend or whatever the fuck should be easy to handle alone? Everything is easier when you're too high to have to hide yourself.
Which is why we end up on the couch with Tunny lighting a bong. I try to give him a look expressing utter disdain when I realize this means I was using the flame on the stove for no goddamn reason. He shrugs, but he's smirking and I know he was just being an ass.
Johnny's not paying attention, he's staring at the blank television and I'm starting to think he's worse than usual. But I don't ask him until to room reeks of pot and we're spread out in the tiny living room, bitching about the election none of us bothered to vote in.
The laughter drifts off into silence before I bring up Brad again, and Johnny's off on a tangent. He doesn't say why he's thinking of leaving, he just tells us we should go with him to the city. Tunny's frowning at first, but he starts to warm up to the idea and it's hard not to when you see Johnny's eyes. He's sitting on the floor and not moving much, but he's got this look like he's already there.
I know I should be thinking about Heather, but when I try to object I stop because I know I'd rather be with Johnny and Tunny than with her. She's great, and yeah, she'll sleep with me, but she's never really gotten like this. She's never really been one of us and there's just something distant about her that's always kept me from needing her. I want her, but I've never actually needed her.
Johnny's still rambling on about how the city is full of people who understand and he's looking more hopeful than I've ever seen him.
And I know that this is what I need. I need them, I need these guys who I've always had and I know I'm going to follow them even if it means ditching Heather.
And I know it's worth it because when Tunny and I agree, Johnny stands up and throws himself onto the couch between us.
It's obvious that Johnny needs this, and we need him, so he says "We're doing this." And I know we are.